


A Lasting Companion

by inksheddings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mother's Day, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles isn't much of a coffee drinker, but his dad is sitting at the table with his own cup, and it's pretty obvious he's expecting Stiles to join him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lasting Companion

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from George Eliot ~ "She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts."

There's a cup of coffee waiting for Stiles when he comes into the kitchen, mid-morning sun a bit too bright for his taste and current mood. He'd slept deeply and long, but his dreams had been uncomfortably vivid. 

Stiles isn't much of a coffee drinker, but his dad is sitting at the table with his own cup, and it's pretty obvious he's expecting Stiles to join him. So he takes a seat.

"Morning," Stiles says. He yawns, mouth wide, as he wraps his hands around the coffee cup. It's still warm and feels good against his skin.

"Morning," his dad agrees. He picks up his cup, taps it against Stiles', which is still warming his hands and the table top, and sips from it slowly.

Stiles doesn't have anything else to say, not today, so he takes a gulp of his coffee and—

"Holy oh my god!" Stiles coughs for a good minute and a half while his dad just sits there and continues drinking his morning cup of joe.

It's not just cream and sugar Stiles' dad added to the brew. There's a good amount of whiskey if the burn down his throat is anything to go by.

"Dad! What the—"

"I thought we'd walk today. We can pick up some flowers at the market on our way."

His dad isn't wearing the usual look of fatigued longing that Stiles is used to seeing whenever the whiskey makes an appearance. Those nights, he can't meet Stiles' eyes. This look is open, wide open. And while it may be just as full of grief, it hurts Stiles less somehow, seeing it like this, face-to-face. 

Stiles takes another drink from his cup, no smaller than the first gulp, but this time he's expecting the burn. "When I woke up," he says, "I was tempted to just bury myself under the blankets and sleep the day away. But I only actually did that the first year after and it didn't feel right even then."

His dad's hands tighten around his cup. He opens his mouth as if to answer, but then shakes his head and says nothing. But Stiles gets it. Coffee his dad can handle, but not so much the conversation. Not yet.

"Peach carnations, right?" Stiles asks. 

His dad laughs, a surprising sound, considering. "And Baby's Breath. Don't forget the Baby's Breath."

Stiles cringes, which makes his dad laugh again, and so, yeah, lots of cheesy Baby's Breath.

"Finish your coffee, Stiles," his dad says, and Stiles obeys easily.

Before they head out toward the market and then the cemetery, Stiles grabs a thermos from the cabinet. He pours in the last of the coffee and adds the whiskey.

His dad looks like he might object, despite the fact that he'd actually started the whole thing, but Stiles just holds the thermos up and says, "There's enough for three to share."

His dad closes his eyes for a second, covers them with his hands for good measure. Then shakes himself out of it and and nods his head. "She'd like that."

It won't be the easiest Mother's Day. It might even be the hardest yet. But for the first time since the last time Stiles' mother kissed his cheek and held his dad's hand, it'll be a little less lonely.

 

**end**


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